[ It's an unmistakable deep, gravelly voice; one attached to a familiar face Kimiko has, quite frankly, seen more than she ever wants or needs to in her life. By the time Dean Winchester speaks up, she has turned away from the interior of the wagon: with her arms draped across the chest-high railing and her chin resting pillowed in her arms, she had spent the last few minutes staring at the passing scenery as Squiffy had chatted on. She had tried to distract herself by counting trees. There had been one tree... and then another... Anyway, by the time she thinks she had almost spotted a third tree, well—voice.
Her elbows had pressed close to her chest in pure, cold panic. Expression locked in a frightened little frown, she turned back around to see exactly who had interrupted eager, talkative Squiffy—face.
It's Soldier Boy. Or, someone who sounds exactly like him and looks considerably comparable to. Frozen with fear, mindful of her current weakened state and the other passengers in the wagon, Kimiko stares at him. It's not subtle at all.
She tries to remember what she had been told when she had been pulled out of the well. It's difficult. She had been told a lot. Something about... faces, and how there's only so many combinations of features, and ripples across points of origin. But pure terror nearly whites out her mind of memory or background noise. Even Squiffy's subdued, frantic babbled apologies are going in one ear and out the other now. ]
oh no. and by oh no, I mean hell yes.
Her elbows had pressed close to her chest in pure, cold panic. Expression locked in a frightened little frown, she turned back around to see exactly who had interrupted eager, talkative Squiffy—face.
It's Soldier Boy. Or, someone who sounds exactly like him and looks considerably comparable to. Frozen with fear, mindful of her current weakened state and the other passengers in the wagon, Kimiko stares at him. It's not subtle at all.
She tries to remember what she had been told when she had been pulled out of the well. It's difficult. She had been told a lot. Something about... faces, and how there's only so many combinations of features, and ripples across points of origin. But pure terror nearly whites out her mind of memory or background noise. Even Squiffy's subdued, frantic babbled apologies are going in one ear and out the other now. ]